


Not in This Day and Age

by Hayato (TheLennyBunny)



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: :[, Abuse warning, Damn, Gen, HUUU, I think im the first w that relationship tag, Obscurus (Harry Potter), WHY IS THERE SO MUCH OBSCURIAL NEWT BUT NONE FOR ACTUAL ABUSED CHILD, as usual per the dursleys, fbawtf made me very speculative, hehehhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-02
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-09-21 15:05:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9553892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLennyBunny/pseuds/Hayato
Summary: To say Obscurials cannot occur in this day and age is a bit ignorant, no?





	1. Chapter 1

Harry stares at the letter in his hands, blinking slowly at it. It’s not quite processing, that there’s something for him. He’s pretty sure no one outside the neighbourhood knows he exists, and he’s up to date on everything the government requires. Vernon calls for him again, and he turns around, walking quietly back to the kitchen. The toast hasn’t suffered for his minute absence, and the bacon is just a tad crispy. They won’t notice it. 

He passes the mail to Vernon, letter and all, and turns back to the fryer. He didn’t really think it was something to freak out about, just something to make the wednesday a bit strange.

Vernon and Petunia’s choking said otherwise.

Harry doesn’t pay much attention to Petunia and Vernon’s arguing afterwards, only going about his chores with his usual mechanical movements. He flinches when Dudley throws a tantrum, but that’s par the course. They finally quiet down by the time he’s finished tending to the garden, so he thinks nothing about it.

Except there’s another letter for him, on the Friday following. He can only furrow his brow at it, before he takes it over to Vernon again. 

The couple argue again, and Vernon even starts yelling at him, before giving it up when Harry just blinks at him. That evening, as he’s prepping dinner for Petunia, his body feels like it’s weighed down by the earth itself. He ignores it. As usual. 

There are two letters on Sunday, sitting on the doorstep. The heaviness heightens for all of a moment, suffocating him, before he forcibly pushes the sensation to the corner of his mind. He finishes his chores early that day, making sure everything is perfect at the same time. When he asks Petunia if he can go to the library, in the afternoon, she glares at him, befuddled and suspicious. But she can necessarily say no, since his work is done and he’s been on his “best behaviour”. They don’t know about the additional letters that had arrived that morning. His clothes were baggy enough to hide them.

Dudley was with his gang somewhere, far out of range, but Harry still stayed in the shadows, unnoticeable on the streets as anything more than an urchin. He blended in perfectly. No one looks at you if you’re small enough, and he counted on that. He idly watched an owl as he waited for the crosswalk to clear; it was a large one, preening its feathers. It looked bored, somehow.

The post office was busy when he arrived, people quietly waiting in line or wandering around, trying to figure out  _ which  _ line to wait in. He shuffled into the one for letters and parcels.

The old fellow at the counter had a knowing look when he showed one of the letters.

“We get a few people with these every year, laddie, nothing to worry about. Do you want me to send it along with your reply?” Harry paused. Reply? Well. He had assumed it was some automated credit offer, or something like that. 

“Do you have a piece of paper, sir?” He was kindly handed a pen as well, with which he hastily penned his... reply.

(His politely worded demand for less spam, to be more accurate).

The worker took it without question, smiling bemusedly at the paper. Harry supposed he should have at least looked inside, but it’s not like it’d be actual mail. Nevertheless, the man takes it, and the boy’s job for the day is done. He heads back to Privet Drive, thinking about trying to read in his cupboard again, or making sure the kitchen is clean. It wouldn’t do to upset Vernon.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, as Dudley runs (waddles) around and dirties up parts of the floor Harry just washed, someone rings the doorbell. Harry silently stands, ignoring Dudley’s taunts at his back as he goes to answer it.

The man at the door is tall, and imposing. He does not look like he belongs on Privet Drive, or anywhere but maybe a library. He scowls down at the boy as if he’s done something wrong already, but Harry just blinks back. 

“If you’re here to sell something, sir, I’m afraid you won’t find any customers here. The woman at Number 6 likes company, though.” The man’s face darkens, even though Harry used a polite tone and didn’t scowl or glare, and Harry twitches, shifting his hands. It’s too early in the day for this, honestly.

“I am not here to sell anything, boy. I need to speak to Petunia Dursley.” Oh. Harry nodded, holding up a hand in supplication as he rushed to get Petunia. She was by the kitchen window, going through some magazine or another. 

“There’s someone at the door for you, and he’s says he’s not a telemarketer.” She glares at him, about to open her mouth, but he rushed forward. “He specifically asked for you, ma’am.” She heaved a great sigh and stood, bustling to the entryway. Harry went back to scrubbing the floor, job seemingly done. He ignored the clamour when Petunia started yelling and loud-whispering in turn; she must be putting the man in his place, for whatever reason. He didn’t concern himself with the Dursley’s business, beyond making sure he stayed largely unhurt and fed. There was a rush of steps after one particularly long pause, and he glanced up to see Petunia glowering in the kitchen’s entry, the man slowly following behind her.

“Boy! Did you do something with those letters!?” Harry paused, a creeping cold weighing him down and keeping him calm.  _ Thank God Vernon isn’t here, then _ .

“Two more came on Sunday, ma’am. I thought they were spam, so I sent a note asking them to stop sending them to the house.” He peered at the man behind her, who was... disgusted. “Should I not have?”

“Presumptuous, just like your father.” What? “The....  _ spam _ you were receiving were your invites the Hogwarts, which you would have known if you bothered to look at them.” He was sneering, which was absolutely uncalled for in Harry’s opinion, but he focused on what seemed to be the most important part of that all.

“Hogwarts?” Petunia was fuming, but didn’t interrupt. 

“Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, boy, do keep up. Now-” Harry scrunched his brows because this really was ridiculous, and sometimes manners just couldn’t be held.

“Sir, magic doesn’t exist. I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :] So id like to specify, this wont be a long drawn out thing like atronach. im afraid im not dedicated enough for that. probably 10 chapters max?

Harry’s sitting quietly at this point, sipping at a mug of tea as Petunia and the man- a Professor Snape- argued over things he didn’t really understand. He had made the tea, thinking it could help nerves. His, at least. He had resolved to stop talking after the Professor became angry at his last response. It was for the best, and expected when it came to him. At least Dudley had gone out to Piers’, and couldn’t interrupt.

“LILY WAS A FREAK!” Harry jumped, head snapping up. Well, they had certainly escalated.

“Who’s Lily, ma’am?” He asked politely. He had heard the name mentioned from time to time, usually in disparaging tones and with a few choice insults. Harry had assumed she was some secretary at Vernon’s work, or a local girl.

Petunia faltered, not expecting him to speak, and it had the intended effect of making her lose some of her steam. He blinked affably when she just sort of... stared.

“Lily Potter was your mother.” The Professor replied instead almost slowly, and wasn’t that a bit... a bit. It made sense for him to be a freak, then, since she was. An alcoholic and two abominations, wasting space and poisoning those around them, and wasn’t it getting hard to breathe, just a little-

All three of them flinched when one of the decorative vases in the living room broke. Petunia stared at it in horror, while Snape stared at Harry’s pale eyes and shaking fingers, clenching around the mug. Harry quickly set down his tea and stared at nothing.

“...Harrison. Why don’t you go sit outside for a moment, while I talk to... Missus Dursley.” The man was suddenly polite, but it was paired with a stiffness that belied extreme displeasure, and Harry glanced between the two adults with trepidation. Petunia was also stiff, but she jerked her head in what could have been agreement. So he scrambled up, rushing to the door and nearly stumbling into it in his haste to escape the tension.

He sat on the stoop until the sun started to dip from its apex, listening to them yell. Petunia got the brunt of it, most of the time, the Professor’s voice hitting volumes in a deep timbre that made the boy want to duck and surrender. At times, he would pause, as if thinking or frustrated. Petunia’d pick it up, only to be interrupted.

He reckoned that Vernon would be home any minute now by the time the yelling had stopped for longer than thirty seconds. He hadn’t even been able to prepare dinner, and he doubted Petunia would have done it. He’d have to get by on what he could scavenge and water from the tap.

Harry stared at his hands and wondered, during one of these rare, quiet moments, what he did to deserve this. Everything, according to his relatives. Maybe they were right, since he seemed to cause trouble with no effort?

The door opened behind him during his musings, and he peered up to see Professor Snape. The man looked older, almost, and all the angrier for it. But Harry had a feeling it was less directed at him for once, as the man’s glare softened at the sight of him, and the little boy fidgeted. 

“Harrison, please gather your things. We are leaving.”

“I- leaving?” Harry gaped, and knew it was unsightly, and unp-impolite, but. “Leaving? Why would, well, why would  _ I  _ leave, sir?”

“Because it is clear that your aunt has been remiss in raising you, and that you should not be left here another day.” The man retorted, quickly losing the edge of gentleness that had been in his expression. Harry opened his mouth to question him again, but closed it. In his experience, had it ever mattered when he protested? He dropped his eyes to the ground, standing up and missing the wince Snape had. He wouldn’t have known why the man had done it in the first place, really.

The only things he could really say were his and that he wanted to keep were miniscule. The clothes he was wearing were obvious, but the rest were... thinking of the Professor’s vest and slacks, well. They wouldn’t be approved of. So he took the odds and ends he had gathered over the years, like a box of assorted colored and lead pencils, and the blanket he had supposedly come to the Dursleys’ in. He hesitated at taking the books he had stashed away, but it wasn’t like Dudley was going to miss them at any point. So he grabbed them too, balancing his raggedy pencil box on top of them. Professor Snape looked less pleased than he had been when Harry shuffled out of his cupboard, but didn’t comment. Thankfully.

Vernon drove into the driveway just as they were leaving. Harry shut his eyes in resignation as the yelling started.

* * *

The professor was a very angry man, Harry was learning. They had.... Well, what had they done? He must have fallen asleep at a point, because they were at some old castle before he knew it. But now they were in a strange office, and Professor Snape was yelling at an old, garish man in an armchair. The old man wasn’t looking quite well, pale as he was, and he kept darting his gaze to Harry with a strange expression. He ignored it as best he could and idly watched the tellies. Sort of strange to put so many into the wall, but he wasn’t going to complain. He sighed, nevertheless, grimacing when his chest struggled to deflate. That had been an issue lately, but he had thought he was developing asthma. Maybe they’d let him see a doctor? He was so cold too, although he’d taken to ignoring that since it also made him numb and helped when he cut himself or some such thing.  _ Oh Well, best get used to it _ had somehow become his motto.

“Harry?” The boy startled, glancing at the old man before quickly lowering his gaze to somewhere around his chin. “Are you alright, my boy?”

Harry blinked, puzzled. “Yes, sir? Why wouldn’t I be?” The old man sighed heavily, shaking his head.

“Why wouldn’t you be, indeed. You don’t know who I am, do you?” Harry shook his head. “Well. My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am headmaster of Hogwarts, school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I was also a friend of your parents.”

“I don’t why you and Professor Snape keep saying that, sir. Magic doesn’t exist.” Harry frowned severely at the man, disregarding manners, because  _ really _ . To keep bringing such, hm, unnatural things up. Dumbledore’s face gained a concerned hue, well, moreso than before, and he leaned forward .

“My boy, I assure you it is real. It is a very natural thing, found throughout people and animals and plants alike. Why each of us in the room is magical-” And here Dumbledore realised his mistake, because Harry’s stance had quickly gone from polite to obstinate and dare he say it, defensive.

“Sir,  _ magic doesn’t exist _ , along with monsters and fairies, and demons, and anything else you can think of! It’s an unnatural thing, just the idea of it, and anyone who does freakish things like that isn’t normal! They need to be locked up, punished, taken away from decent society, vanish so they don’t-don’t-” He wheezed, squeezing his eyes shut and clamping his arms down from where they had risen, and that was strange, wasn’t it, ahahaha? He was so cold, and heavy, and he struggled to breathe suddenly, as if there was a weight resting around his neck and closing his throat. Blood was rushing through his ears, so it isn’t unreasonable that he didn’t notice some of the more, mm, mundane things in the Headmaster’s office bursting into pieces. Nor did he notice the smoke rising from his skin and terrifying the men present.

 

“Oh, dear boy.” Albus’ voice was weary, weighed down with guilt, and Severus could hardly swallow around his own, and the horror that cloaked it.

They had rightly fucked up.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ngl, I pretty much rewrote this chapter three times. this isn't really a happy, everything is fixed story, and I usually write with a very comedic tone. 'S fucking irritatin.

Poppy had her head in her hands, and was angrily muttering under her breath. Albus was out in the main wing, talking about books with Potter. It seemed to be one of the only safe topics they could breach without causing an... incident.

“I can’t do this, Severus.” He looked at the mediwitch, who had lifted her head. She was frowning, but her eyes.. “I know Albus had his best interests at heart, but they lead to this, and I can’t help at this point. No one’s dealt with an- an _obscurial_ , in decades.” She whispered the word as if it was a curse.

“It is not as if we can go to St. Mungo’s, Poppy.” No, that would cause a leak, and would lead to an uproar. Clamouring for the boy’s execution. Debates. He would be an object, not a traumatized child, if it got out.

“Swear someone to silence, then! But I cannot help with something this large! I deal with fevers and broken bones, not-”

“Death sentences.” She deflated, lowering her head into her hands once more.

“Not with death sentences.” She murmured. They sat in silence for a long while, innocuous chatter continuing in the background. Severus almost sunk into his mind, meditating, when Poppy shot up. “Wait! Shit!”

“Well, now-”

“No, shut up, Severus!” He obligingly closed his mouth. “No one’s dealt with this in decades, yes? But the person who did is still around. And I know bloody well he’s friends with Albus, considering how many times the man had him come visit Hagrid.” Severus stilled, blinking.

“Christ above, we’re thick.” He ran a hand over his face, scowling at the Mediwitch’s snort. “I’ll go and get Albus on that, then. He’ll bend with enough guilt.”

“I should think we will all bow with our guilt, Severus.” He grimaced in agreement, already heading out into the main wing.

Albus flinched at his expression, but really. Needs must.

* * *

Harry wasn’t stupid, not by any means, and he could tell the old man was simply keeping him occupied. It was like when one of his primary teachers would try to engage him to get him to talk in class, or how the doctor would keep up a stream of meaningless conversation when he went. If he did at all.

He had been left alone eventually, in the big spacious hospital, with only the nurse for company. She was nice, but as tense as the other adults. He kept his head down and was doubly polite when she came near him. Wouldn’t do to make her upset. He was heavy enough, and breathing was only just getting easier.

He knew it wasn’t normal, this feeling. It went hand in hand with his freakishness, and his mother’s, and he hated it. It was a heavy thing that came when he felt sad, or angry, or any sort of large emotion. It was one of his reasons for avoiding them, to be honest. Too troublesome to deal with, and hard enough to get through without exacerbating it. He thinks that’s the right word? He had seen it used in one of his recent books, he thinks it was the medical one...

His head shot up when he heard the huge doors to the hospital wing open for the first time in hours, shifting the book he had placed in his lap away. No need for a cover when they finally came back. But it wasn’t just the headmaster and the professor; alongside them was another elderly man, although he still had colour to him, unlike the headmaster.

Unbeknownst to him, as he had lost focus on the surroundings, the man and the teachers had a fierce, silent argument. The man asserted that he could handle this, thank you very much, and you’ve done enough, haven’t you, Albus? And so he was left alone because really, the Scamanders are bloody terrifying in their own right, and they were luckily Porpentina couldn’t come with.

The man slowly approached Harry, making sure his steps were loud enough to be heard. Harry watched him, wondering. He was tall and thin, with scars all over him, like he had been in a fight and didn’t come out of it winning. But his eyes were soft, if cautious and shadowed by the same sheen all the others had when looking at Harry. Another doctor, maybe?

“Hello, Harry. My name’s Newton Scamander, although I prefer Newt. Could I sit down?” He flapped a hand at the chair placed next to Harry’s bed, smiling when the boy assented. Mister Scamander sat down with a sigh, rubbing at his thigh. “I’m afraid my legs aren’t what they used to be. Now, Harry, I’ve been told you’re a fairly bright boy. Mature for your age, too! I was wondering, could you try and tell me why you think I’m here?”

Harry paused. Well. “Are you a doctor, sir? Or a priest?” He ventured. At the man’s blank look, he explained, “Miss Petunia used to mention bringing in a priest whenever I did something, when I was younger.” “Mentioning” in this case of course meant loudly threatening, but that wasn’t important. Mister Scamander winced at that, grimacing down at the sheets as though they were stained.

“No, no, I’m not a priest. Doctor is... close, I suppose? Researcher is more apt, although to be honest I do less research and more rearing nowadays. I’m a m- a zoologist, you see.” Harry blinked at him slowly, before squinting past at the door.

“Sir...” He paused. “I may be a freak, but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t make me an animal, even if I accidentally messed up Headmaster Dumbledore’s office.”

Newt balked. “No, M-no, lord, I’m making a mess of this aren’t I...” The elderly man ran a hand over his face, groaning. He leaned in, looking Harry in the eyes with an earnest, if uncomfortable, expression. “Harry, I study animals, but I mainly take care of them, and occasionally people if needs be. Mister Dumbledore asked me to come in because I’ve tried to help other children like... like you, before.”

“Oh.” Harry fidgeted a bit, eyeing his lap. “So.. you know what’s wrong with me?”

“That’s one way to put it yes.” The man replied wearily. “But there is nothing ‘wrong’ with you, Harry, not necessarily. Let’s see... You know how someone may go outside when it’s cold out, and end up sick? It’s a bit like that. Certain things happened around you, and so you ended up ‘sick’.” Harry tilted his head, contemplating that.

“So what am I sick with, sir?” Newt tried to smile, managing little more than a grimace, before giving up.

“Did they teach you about families in school, Harry?”

“Sure?” He ventured. “They taught us how families can be different, and how people can have sisters or brothers or none at all, and a father or mother but not both. Everything they can without upsetting parents, I guess.”

“Did they teach you how a family should behave? How a mother and father, or how relatives should be?” Harry blinked slowly, squinting at the elderly man.

“Ye-es... if this is about the Dursleys, I already know, sir.” Newton paused.

“Know?”

“None of the other children live in cupboards or do the housework or were punished for good grades, Mister Scamander. You realise things like that even when you’re a kid.” He scowled, thinking of the time they had been asked to draw their rooms and he had seen all the other children with large, pretty things filled with toys or knick knacks. He had had to persuade the teacher that he just didn’t have much in his “room”, for that activity.

Mister Scamander looked both greatly relieved and horrified all at once, passing a hand over his face with a sigh. Harry politely waited for him to gain his bearings.

“Yes. Well. It is.... Good that you can tell what your relatives did was wrong. And. Hm. Where was I?”

“I asked what I was sick with, and you asked about my family, sir.” Newt winced. Blunt child, he was.

“Yes. To put it simply, Harry, your family is the reason you’re sick.”

“I-” Harry stopped. “Sir?”

“Your family was not a good family, and they, ah, changed how your body works. Sort of like how the cold will give you a cold, or how rust will make a machine break.” He eyed the boy in front of him. “Tell me, have you ever had trouble breathing, or felt like you were going numb? Maybe had strange things happen when you were angry or scared?” The expression on Harry’s face was answer enough. They sat for a moment, contemplating their own revelations (or confirmations), before Harry spoke up, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“So the Dursleys are the reason I’m so freaky?”


	4. Chapter 4

 

Newt sat there, resisting the urge to put his head in his hands, and wondered how he had ended up in this situation. And how people were still this horrible. And just what Albus was thinking, letting a child suffer this much, Hecate  _ above _ . He sighed again, running a hand through his hair and trying to figure how to explain all this without causing a surge.

“Harry... your family were the ones who told you that you were freaky... weren’t they?” A small nod. “Then why believe them when you know they weren’t a good family in the first place?” Harry paused, opening and closing his mouth. The boy looked down at his lap, brows furrowed. It was silent for a minute, before he scowled and rubbed at his chest.

“...Don’t know why I didn’t think of that...” He muttered to himself, before looking back up. “So I’m... normal? But, what about all the, the weird things?”

“Those incidents are perfectly normal for a child in your situation, Harry. Maybe a little out of the ordinary for people like us, but still not something ‘freaky’.” Newt smiled as Harry perked up.

“Wait- people like us? You’re like me, sir!?” The man nodded, chuckling at the enthusiasm.

“Yes, and so is everyone else here. I heard from Albus that he... didn’t manage to explain it well to you. To put it in simple terms, Harry, we have power. It’s a strange sort of power, passed down from parent to children, but it has rules like science and maths and English. There are restrictions to how we use it, and you have to learn how to do it just like you learn how to write and add. It’s a natural thing, not at all evil unless you use it that way.”

“But, the headmaster said he had magic. And magic...” Harry’s brow wrinkled again. “Did the Dursleys tell me another lie?”

“It depends, to be honest. Magic, power, whatever the user calls it, can be used for good or evil. It depends on the person. Look at it like a knife, or hammer. You may use them for building and eating, while an evil individual may use them to kill and hurt. Do you see my point?” The small boy slowly nodded his head, contemplating.

“So... the Dursleys knew I had it. And they didn’t?” Newt nodded. “And... because they treated me wrong, it... did something?”

“Yes. To put it simply, their treatment of you hurt it. It’s a little like an abused animal, now; it’ll be more likely to strike out if you feel like you’re in danger, or if you’re upset. But it’s still just power, and it’s still something that can be controlled. You are  _ normal _ , Harry. Bruised and hurt, yes, but obviously standing strong through it. And we... the headmaster and the staff, and I, we want to make sure you stay standing strong, despite that hurt.” He smiled gently at Harry’s expression, half disbelief and half hope. Newt shuffled forward a bit, slowly taking one of Harry’s hands and channeling his own magic just a bit. A small ball of light flickered into existence above their palms. It made the little boy gasp, and Newt smile wider. “Please. Let us help you do  _ amazing  _ things, Harry.”

Harry stared between him and the ball, watching it float peacefully, before slowly nodding his head. Newton grinned at the victory that nod was, and started to prepare a few more tricks. Albus wouldn’t be coming in for quite a bit longer, after all, and the old scientist wanted to drag a few more grins out of the small boy.

A little fun was in order, after all this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ouo

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell with me on tumblr!  
> thenightisdarkandfullofbooty.tumblr.com


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